


Hand to God

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Descriptions of Sickness, M/M, Touch-Starved, Ysalamiri (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: A ground mission to Myrkr cuts Kylo off from the Force. That’s bad enough. But, when he exits the planet’s atmosphere, and the Force comes rushing back to him, it’s almost more than he can handle. Hux helps him put himself together again.





	Hand to God

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forrome/gifts).



“A Supreme Leader oughtn’t pilot his own ship on a terrestrial mission,” Hux snipped, following Kylo down a corridor at a brisk pace. Kylo lengthened his strides, partially to get away faster and partially because he was curious when Hux would break propriety and begin to jog. 

“There has only been one Supreme Leader before me. That’s hardly precedent,” Kylo shot back, dismissively. 

“The Emperor never flew his own ship off to uncivilized worlds to tromp through the mud like a bloody luggabeast,” Hux argued, annoyingly keeping pace. “It would have sent the wrong message.” 

“The Emperor was an aristocratic politician from the glittering halls of Naboo. He didn’t know /how/ to fly himself anywhere.” Kylo halted at the doors of a turbolift. “Besides. Myrkr has been unpopulated for decades. There’s nobody there to receive ‘the wrong message.’”

“That we know of,” Hux muttered, waiting for the lift to whoosh down to meet them.

“Do you doubt the Order’s reconnaissance? Our intel?” Kylo cut his eyes across at Hux. He wasn’t really asking. He already knew Hux had the highest faith in his own people. 

“The trees there have an unusually high metal content. They garble our transmissions with feedback, and make most standard forms of remote information gathering shaky at best.” Kylo watched Hux flick rapidly through information on his datapad. “There could be a whole encampment of murderous smugglers, and it would be shockingly easy for them to erase their presence there until it was too late.” 

Kylo didn’t answer. He stepped into the lift and groaned internally when Hux followed him. 

“Also there are the ysalamiri to consider,” Hux noted, tapping his datapad with his stylus obnoxiously loud. 

“The vornskr survive well enough,” Kylo deflected. “Do not doubt me.” 

Hux huffed, and stepped out of the lift on the Engineering level, allowing Kylo to proceed to the bridge in peaceful silence. 

—————

The planet’s native flora had taken over the stepped shapes of what had once been smuggler hideouts and sniper roosts. Trees split the duracrete of what was once a landing pad, and vines climbed unchallenged up rusted spires and arials. Kylo dropped low over the tree line, searching for a place to land, and that was when he felt it. 

He was numb, sick, and dizzy, a nauseated fault in his equilibrium starting in his temples and spreading out to his fingertips. The TIE Silencer dipped, cutting precariously over the treetops with an angry scrape before, by sheer muscle memory, he righted the craft and piloted it, half blind, to the top of a plateau. It was not an ideal landing spot, but he was stumbling out of the cockpit almost as soon as the landing gear touched the bare rock. He staggered, retching, with no particular destination, but felt moderately better as he approached the center of the mesa. 

There was nothing around to indicate what had sickened him so suddenly, nor what had caused the queasiness to subside. Standing in the middle of a flat expanse of rock, he reached out to the Force, to get a better read on his surroundings. 

It felt... dull, somehow, like he was a youngling, barely able to reach out farther than he could see. There was a void at the edges of his consciousness, something intangible, just beyond the edge of the plateau. Taking a few steps toward the ledge, he felt it again, growing stronger the closer he got. When he was in sight of the trees at the base of the mesa, it was overwhelming, an airsick sensation that made his head spin. He flung out his hand, relying on the Force to steady himself, but there was nothing there. Then he remembered: the ysalamiri. The denser foliage in the years the planet had been abandoned must have provided them with ample space for a population boom. He had to assume the efforts of vornskr breeders, taking so many of the planet’s top predator off-world, must have contributed as well. As a result, he imagined each tree was festooned with the little beasts like they were Life Day ornaments. 

Estimating the distance between himself and the nearest tree, he could tell the range of the ysalamiri’s influence was far greater than what he’d read about the creatures. That, or their sheer proliferation was amplifying their effects. He cursed under his breath. Whatever crusty old sith lord had buried a holocron on this planet had been an absolute sadist. 

Still numb and shaky, he considered simply returning to his ship and returning to the Finalizer. But, he knew what Hux would think. He wouldn’t /say/ “I told you so,” but he’d think it loud enough for Kylo to hear. Attempting to force down the waves of nausea, the uneasy feeling of being cut off from the Force, he began to climb down the rocky slopes of the mesa and into the ysalamiri’s forest. 

—————

The sickness did not abate. It was like the sensory deprivation of being back in that karking bacta tank, disorienting, only instead of weightless, he felt especially heavy. It grew worse when he passed under any particularly large tree, and if he glanced up, he could see the vile creatures, peering down at him, yellow coats gleaming. He sneered at them, and continued to trudge through the underbrush. Without the Force, finding the holocron would be even more difficult. As would transporting it. He somehow expected that any fiendish old sith who’d chosen /this/ planet, specifically, to hide an artifact like that would also include traps that required the Force to disarm. 

It would be a long trek.

—————

It took far longer than he’d expected. By the time he’d climbed back up the face of the mesa to where he’d landed the Silencer, holocron wrapped up in his cape for its Force lighting suppressing qualities, days had passed. Of course, those were Myrkr days. Without his connection to the Force, he’d long since lost track of how many cycles would have passed back on the Finalizer. His comm was essentially useless, with the metal content in the trees (again, he recalled Hux’s warnings) scrambling his signal. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He was bruised, battered, and somewhat lightning burnt. He’d never been cut off from the Force for so long, and his body was more tired than he could ever remember it being, even though he’d been through far more strenuous tests than this. Perhaps it wasn’t his body that was tired, but his mind. In every waking hour, he found himself searching for something that wasn’t there, calling out to something that would not answer. He dragged himself up onto the plateau, and lay there in the sun a moment, gathering strength. He hoped he’d be able to fly like this. He usually relied on the Force for split-second decisions. 

He secured the holocron, and all but crawled into the cockpit. He took a deep breath, and powered the craft on. 

—————

He didn’t anticipate what it would be like to have the Force rush back at him, when he was close to breaking atmo. It was like being caught beneath a wave, dragged under. He couldn’t remember Awakening, it had happened when he was so young, but others he’d met had described the terrifying pull, the sudden awareness of everything, everything around them, how it had felt like their very self was dissolving into the ebb and flow of the universe, like they would be pulled apart, atom by atom, as every living thing called out to them and tugged at once. 

He felt it. He felt it all, too much, and the Silencer twisted in the air, listed to one side, before he managed to correct his trajectory and finally, finally leave the stars-forsaken planet behind. 

His footing was unbalanced when he disembarked, made his way out of the TIE Silencer and into the havoc of the hangar bay. His head pounded. There were so many consciousnesses here, a cacophony of thoughts and feelings, bursting riotous as colors behind his eyes. 

How could this be? His connection to the Force defined him. He hadn’t had this difficulty being awash in the tide of it, sifting through the minutiae of others’ minds, experiencing the fabric of existence, since he was a child. Had he lost a fundamental part of himself, left it behind, beneath the glittering eyes of the ysalamiri? He pushed away his flight crew, ignored the junior officers who approached him, stomped toward a lift and glared until those queueing to board it collectively decided to let him go first, alone. 

He wanted to go to his quarters. He needed to meditate. He needed to mend his fractured self, reform himself into a vessel that could contain all of this... this /matter/ of life. He felt like he could feel it all /leaking out of him/, and if he didn’t counteract it, he’d again be empty and hollow, a heavy shell, like he had been on Myrkr. 

Hux was waiting for him at his door. Kylo wanted to scream.

“I received a notification that you’d arrived, but nobody could get a statement as to whether or not your mission was a success,” he stated pointedly. Clearly, he was unimpressed with Kylo’s refusal to address the officers in the hangar. 

Kylo didn’t answer aloud. He merely brandished the bundle containing the holocron under Hux’s nose. 

“Ergh. You smell like a bog,” Hux snipped. “I presume this /lump/ is the item you sought?”

“Yes.”

“Is it good intel? You were out of range with no communication for six standard days.” His implication was that the information encoded in the Holocron had /better/ be worth the extended absence. 

“I don’t know yet,” Kylo answered honestly, too tired to meet Hux’s posturing. “I couldn’t examine it with those disgusting creatures everywhere.”

“You mean the ysalamiri?” Hux smirked. “I think they’re kind of cute, actually. I considered getting one, once or twice.”

“I’d have spaced you both,” Kylo muttered, keying in the access code on his door. 

Hux clicked his tongue. “That’s an overreaction.”

“Take note, Grand Marshal. I hate those little beasts. I hate their planet, and I hate whatever sick minded old sith put this holocron there. If the information inside it isn’t even worth it, I’m going to order an orbital strike on Myrkr, and I’m going to watch its forests fry.” 

Hux raised his elegantly groomed eyebrows. Kylo could hear his thoughts, couldn’t shut them out of his head. 

/Stars, what happened to him down there? He looks like he’s been hit by a hypertrain,/ Hux thought, vaguely alarmed. He cycled through a slew of emotions that made Kylo’s headache worse: stress, worry, irritation, curiosity. Kylo rubbed his eyes and moved into the anteroom of his quarters, and, damnably, Hux followed him, bringing up files on his datapad. 

“There have been a few incidents in your absence,” he explained. “I’d like to brief you so you are apprised of all recent changes before you take command of the bridge again.” 

Oh, stars, the bridge. That was a high-stress environment if there ever was one. Kylo wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it in his current state. 

“Can it wait, Hux? I need to meditate.” He paused. “And I need a shower.”

“Some items are rather time sensitive,” Hux protested, as Kylo sunk into a chair to pull off his boots. Even the press of the smooth synthetic leather, through his clothing, stung his oversensitive skin. 

Kylo slumped in his seat, pressing his fingertips against his eyes until he saw red and black spots. “Hux. Grand Marshal. Please. Don’t.” 

Hux hesitated, and Kylo fought the urge to plug his ears against the onslaught of Hux’s rapid thoughts. It wouldn’t do him any good. 

“Is... that a direct order, Supreme Leader?” 

Kylo looked balefully through his fingers at Hux. 

“No. Do whatever you want, Hux.” 

Hux growled under his breath. “That’s what I’ve /been/ doing for /six days/ and indeed /most of the time/ since Snoke’s assassination.” This was the anger, constantly simmering under the surface of Hux’s demeanor. Kylo always knew it was there, but now he could hear it, feel it, like a vibroblade between the ribs.

“I’m not in the mood, Hux. That planet... look. I’m going to tell you something you’ll like. You were right. About the trees, and those wretched vermin.” 

/Why is he telling me this?/ Hux thought, though his face remained impassive. 

“I... take it they gave you some trouble?” Hux offered, his mind making it clear he felt wrong-footed.

“I was cut off from the Force for almost a week.”

Hux’s mouth turned down almost imperceptibly, but Kylo was well-versed in the man’s microexpressions, and even if he wasn’t, his mind made his contempt for Kylo’s ‘mysticism’ apparent. He’d gotten along just fine without Kylo’s beloved Force, he thought. “Oh, that must have been difficult for you,” he said flatly. 

“It would be like if you suddenly went deaf,” Kylo explained, gesticulating at his own ears. He could feel the grit between his fingers, the sweat on the nape of his neck. Hux considered this analogy, imagined being dismissed from duty if such a thing happened to him. He disliked the idea.

“I see. Well, it’s over now, and you’re far away from the creatures,” Hux quipped smartly, straightening up. This was his version of being comforting, Kylo surmised, essentially telling him to keep a stiff upper lip. It was almost laughable. 

“It wasn’t just that, Hux. When I got out of their range it... it all came back, all at once, like a flood. All the life on the planet below me, all the threads of starstuff laced throughout the galaxy, scintillating with potential, the Force... it hit me like a wall rushing up to meet a crashing speeder.” He turned, looked out at the viewport at the multitudes, distant points of stars glimmering as they fed their energies into the galaxy. “I couldn’t... I can’t remember being like this, ever. The Force was always with me. I was too young to remember when it Awakened in me, but being away for so long, it was like starting over. I can’t... there’s too much life here.” His right hand formed into a fist, and something fell off of a shelf, unbidden. He wouldn’t be telling Hux this if he wasn’t so bone tired, stretched thin. 

“Mm,” Hux replied. His frown lines deepened slightly. “Well, what do you propose then? I suppose I could have your flight crew prepare your Silencer for departure, again, if you want to go someplace deserted to sort yourself out. Mustafar, perhaps? That seems fitting, doesn’t it?” He paced back and forth, speaking rapidly. “Of course, that’s more absences for our highest in command, and furthermore, are we meant to wean you back in to human cohabitation, letting you pop off to progressively more populated planets until you’re fit to walk among us again?” 

Hux’s mind was going a mile a minute, and, without thinking, Kylo reached out a hand to stop Hux in his tracks with the Force. Hux’s anger flared, so hot and bright it felt like a physical burn, originating in Hux’s core and traveling through their connection to sear Kylo’s hand. Kylo ignored it, fought through the pain as he usually did.

“You’re thinking too much,” Kylo complained. “I already have a headache.” He dropped his Force hold to rub at his own temples. 

“You cannot command the First Order in this state,” Hux stated, incensed. 

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Kylo grumbled, but Hux was approaching him. He put his hands on Kylo’s shoulders. The contact, even through his heavy tunic and undershirt, was intense. He could almost /taste/ Hux’s thoughts, feel their very /texture/ like the ridges on the roof of his own mouth against his tongue.

“We are going to get you into a bath, and make you presentable,” Hux declared, and Kylo cast him a surprised look. 

“Like, an /actual/ bath?” he asked, following the strands of Hux’s emotions, his intentions, even the stray, meaningless thoughts that intruded upon them. 

“Yes. There’s one in the officer’s training room. Don’t you ever go there?” Hux’s plan, to get Kylo into a bath, clean the Myrkr mud out of his hair, calm him down, and reintroduce him to the sort of military confraternity with which Hux, at least, was familiar... it coiled around Kylo like hot wires from Hux’s mind, pulled him along. 

“The stormtrooper training rooms have sturdier equipment. And they’re larger,” Kylo answered. 

“But they only have sonics,” Hux pointed out. “Come on. Do you have any leisure shoes?” 

Kylo grunted as he stood from the chair and shuffled into his bedroom. He stripped off his dirt-crusted uniform and dropped it into the laundry chute. His cape would also need to be laundered, but the holocron was too dangerous to be unwrapped just yet. Kylo wanted to be more in control of himself before he poked that particular rathtar. 

He emerged in his loose training outfit, with athletic shoes, and Hux nodded at him. “Very good. Off we go then. Unless you think the corridors will prove too much stimulation?” It sounded like it could have been mocking, but in his mind, Hux seemed slightly concerned. 

“I’ll manage,” Kylo promised, cursing himself for showing this weakness, for allowing it to exist in the first place. 

Hux set off at a brisk pace, and Kylo followed behind. The recirculated air felt strange on his bare arms, hairs standing up at each fresh, cold gust. Everyone they passed saluted, but Kylo tried to ignore them, the litany of their thoughts. By the time they arrived in the officer’s gym, he felt sand-blasted, like a layer of his flesh had been abraded away and he was now raw and exposed. Perhaps once he got into the bath and Hux left, Kylo could attempt to meditate, to resituate himself within the universe. 

The bath, along with a sauna, was in a separate room, down a hall from the gym. The room was hot, sultry even, with heavy steam and the smell of standard-issue soap. There was one Petty Officer in the sauna, and Kylo had to close his eyes and concentrate very hard not to hear the man’s meticulous revisiting of a conversation he’d had with his CO earlier, rehashing the entire thing and analyzing it to determine if he’d sounded stupid or not. He desperately wanted a promotion, and was making efforts to distinguish himself among his peers. He wondered if he’d been the right amount of obedient and respectful, without being sycophantic. If he’d showed enough drive and initiative, without being presumptuous. Kylo shook his head. Just one man besides Hux and himself, and already that was too much. Hux crossed to a large round tub which looked more or less like a vat or a cistern, and pressed a button on the side to make a robotic arm holding a bar that emitted an intense blue light lift up and begin passing the light beam over the water several times. The arm powered down and tucked itself away automatically, and Hux tested the water temperature. 

“What was that for?” Kylo asked, watching Hux fiddle with the taps and swipe his rank cylinder to remove a wrapped bar of soap from a dispenser. 

“Sanitizes the water,” Hux explained. “But you didn’t read that from my mind, so, that’s progress.”

He was right. He’d been so focused on /not/ listening to the Petty Officer in the sauna, he hadn’t been assaulted by Hux’s errant thoughts since they entered the room. He didn’t say anything, but Hux nodded at him. 

“Right then,” Hux went on, crisply, “into the bath with you.” 

Kylo was used to showering with the stormtroopers. Nudity wasn’t an issue. But, Hux’s expectant eyes made it a little strange. He turned away, faced a bench as he toed out of his shoes and stripped off his workout gear. He folded it all loosely to the side, and then he had to cross to the short set of steps that would allow him to climb into the tub. He could feel Hux watching, but, thankfully, was able to avoid hearing what Hux thought of watching Kylo Ren climb naked and filthy into a tub. 

“Hmph, we’ll have to change the water when you’re done,” Hux commented, pulling a scrubbing cloth from a rack. “I don’t think the SaniLight will be enough. Look, you’re creating little dirt islands.” 

Indeed, on the surface of the water were thin little splotches of dust and grime which had lifted away from his body and were now floating across the surface of the bath. “I don’t remember the last time I was this filthy,” he said, embarrassed. 

“Yes, you are truly disgusting,” Hux replied indifferently. He wet the cloth and began to lather it with the soap. “Arms out.” 

Kylo spread his arms, even as he said, “I am capable of washing myself, you know. I’m not injured.” 

He /was/ injured, but he’d had worse. 

Hux clicked his tongue. “These look suspiciously like those Force lightning burns you used to get from Snoke,” he observed, being careful as he passed the cloth around the pink patterns on Kylo’s skin. 

“Yes. But I had my cape. And it was just latent energy stored in the holocron. They’re not deep.” They did sting though, as Hux stretched his skin. He reminded himself to put some bacta patches on them when he was clean. He was surprised Hux had ever noticed the burns he’d gotten from their former Leader.

“Mm,” Hux mused, sliding the cloth across Kylo’s upper back, rinsing and wringing it, and continuing down the other arm. Through the wet cloth, Hux’s hand was a solid weight, a connection to the tangible world. He found he needed it, needed the slow, soft pressure, coaxing him back from the precipice of Force corruption. 

“Arms up,” Hux instructed, and Kylo obeyed so Hux could wash his under arms, his sides, his ribs. When Hux smoothed the soapy cloth over his chest, rubbing circles into his sore muscles in the insertion points between his pectorals and deltoids, Kylo began to relax into the bath. It was like he could imagine himself spooling his consciousness back into his body, like it was a fish on a line. It had been struggling, out in the black inky sea of void, but Hux gave him a counterweight, helped him pull. The Petty Officer’s monologue faded away as Hux continued to pass the cloth over his skin, under his hair, along his jaw, behind his ears. “Rinse,” Hux directed, and Kylo sank deeper into the water, sliding on the little seat that ran around the circumference of the tub. The water came up to his chin and he slipped his hands into the water rubbing away the soap behind his ears. 

Hux’s bare hand landed on his forehead. He didn’t think they’d ever touched, skin to skin, and that connection, that gravity calling his splintered awareness back into his body, grew stronger. All Hux was doing, though, was encouraging Kylo to tip his head back, to wet his greasy hair in the water. 

“You probably have some kind of haircare routine,” Hux commented, when the water cleared from Kylo’s ears. 

“Yes.” Kylo had forgotten, somehow... the spice and oil treatments, the conditioner, the volume-boosting shampoo imported from the core worlds. This was a part of his life that had been somewhere off in the aether, but Hux brought it back with an offhand comment. What else had he forgotten? What else would Hux restore to him?

“It will have to wait. 3-in-1 soap for now. You can make it pretty later.” He lathered the bar again, and Kylo almost didn’t care about how that low-grade soap would probably damage his hair, drying it out and making it more prone to tangling, under a helmet or in the wind of a planetside mission. It very nearly didn’t matter, once Hux’s soapy hands began to spread the suds through from the tips of his hair to the roots, foaming it between his hands. Now and then Hux picked out a leaf or a twig and flicked it away. Otherwise, he combed his fingers through Kylo’s wet hair, fingertips scratching lightly at his scalp. 

“Hmm,” Kylo mumbled, allowing his eyes to fall closed. “I’m not even focused on that junior officer in there having a crisis of protocol in the steam room, while you’re doing that.” If he reached out, he could still sense his presence. Testing his limits, he reached out a bit further, noted the officers doing their cardio and lifting in the gym. With effort, he pushed further into the stream of the Force, spread out his sphere of awareness to encompass a few hundred lives, milling about the corridors, going through their days. But then, he could pull back again. He could recede and fold his mind back up, control himself before he began taking on the emotional weight of a crew of thousands. He blinked, looked behind himself at Hux with his sleeves rolled up. 

“Crisis of protocol?” Hux asked, squinting. 

“He’s not sure he didn’t say something stupid in front of his CO.” 

“Aha,” Hux answered. His shoulders relaxed. “I’m sure we’ll make quite a sight when he exits the sauna. The two highest-ranking individuals in the Order, performing bathtime ablutions together.”

Kylo snorted. “Probably.” 

Hux offered the washcloth to Kylo, told him to do his legs and belly while Hux summoned a droid to bring his shaving kit. Immediately, Kylo found he missed Hux’s hands on him, felt the Force within him reaching out to Hux, calling him back. 

“What are you doing?” Hux asked, struggling towards where he’d hung up his coat so he could get his datapad. “Why are you making my feet feel so heavy?”

“It’s not on purpose,” Kylo claimed, and Hux’s cheek twitched. Apparently, Hux found this /amusing/. 

“Calm down, Supreme Leader,” he chastised. “I don’t want to get my datapad wet. We can get back to your exposure therapy in a moment.”

“Exposure therapy,” Kylo echoed. It was that, really. He watched Hux stow his datapad in one of the large pockets of his coat again. 

“Seems you’re not quite back to your charming self yet, if you’re accidentally making my legs feel like they’re encased in duracrete,” Hux observed, striding back over to the tub with a casual sort of grace. His hands landed on Kylo’s shoulders, moved up his neck, felt along his chin and jaw. “You badly need a shave,” he pointed out. “Dunk your head, let’s wash the soap out of your hair.”

Kylo did, and Hux detached one of the faucets, pulling it so the hose reached the top of Kylo’s head. He opened the tap, and shielded Kylo’s eyes from the water with one hand while he passed the warm spray over Kylo’s hair with the other. Sighing contentedly, Kylo relaxed into the attention.

“I’m feeling more present, now,” he murmured, eyes closed. Hux’s fingertips were callused in places, from holding his stylus, and from his pet engineering projects. Kylo could concentrate on that, on the place where their skin touched, on the physicality of another living being— not his mind, not the life energy flowing through him, just the pressure and friction of his hand. The weight of it on Kylo’s forehead. Hux smoothed his wet hair back, wrung it out gently as a mechanical whistle announced the arrival of Hux’s droid. 

“Here we are,” Hux said, lifting his shaving kit and balancing it on the wide rim of the tub. 

“You shave with a real blade?” Kylo asked, peering into the little box. 

“An old habit,” Hux replied, unrolling the strop and hooking it against a tap to pull it tight so he could sharpen the blade. Then he picked up the brush and the bowl and began to work up a lather. “Have you never had a razor shave, Ren?”

“Never.” He’d prefer to have Hux’s hands on him again, rather than whatever arcane ritual this was. Here Hux always criticized /his/ mysticism...

The bristle brush dragged over his skin, spreading the lather. It smelled like Hux, and Kylo allowed himself to accept that alone, but hummed quietly when Hux’s finger landed under his nose to tilt his head back to begin scraping the razor up his neck. Hux turned his face this way and that, by simple pressure of one fingertip against Kylo’s nose. The razor slid cold against his skin, and Hux deftly flung the lather away, in a clearly practiced motion. Kylo’s mind was quiet. 

“Nearly done. Straighten your upper lip for me, like this.” Hux demonstrated, and Kylo mimicked him, feeling like he was making a strange face, though Hux didn’t comment on it. Kylo didn’t want Hux to be done. That would mean he’d stop touching him, and Kylo wasn’t ready for that yet. 

At last, though, Hux wiped his face down with the cloth, passed fingers up and down Kylo’s jaw to see if he’d missed any spots, and declared his job done. Kylo made a soft sound of disappointment as Hux packed up his shaving kit, and Hux’s expression shifted into something Kylo didn’t recognize. He could reach out, discover what Hux was thinking, but didn’t. He was content to keep his mind to himself, for the time being. 

Hux took a breath, and Kylo expected him to say something like, ‘Will that be all then, Supreme Leader,’ like he wasn’t standing there in his shirtsleeves, with Kylo naked before him. 

“Your eyes look a bit better,” Hux stated, instead, one hand falling gently on Kylo’s cheek, slightly pulling down Kylo’s lower eyelid with his thumb, like he was checking Kylo’s pupils after a head injury. 

“What were they like before?” Kylo asked quietly. He leaned into Hux’s palm, like this was just something they did. 

“Very red-rimmed. Bloodshot. With alarmingly purple veins underneath. It was a little discomfiting, to be honest with you.” 

“Sorry to have appeared to you in that state,” Kylo replied, dismissive, even as he closed his eyes and soaked up the coolness of Hux’s hand. 

“I sincerely hope that relic is worth all this trouble,” Hux repeated. His thumb brushed Kylo’s cheekbone, over and over, lulling Kylo into a meditative calm. 

“Mmh,” Kylo mumbled. “Would you come back to my quarters with me? You can read out those reports you wanted to show me.”

For a while, Hux didn’t answer, but his thumb continued its slow back and forth slide over Kylo’s cheekbone. 

“Alright,” he said, finally. “Let me get a towel—“

Before he’d even turned away, a towel zipped into Kylo’s outstretched hand. Hux huffed a soft laugh. 

“Glad you’re back to yourself, Ren.”

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by forrome! Hope you enjoy!


End file.
